


Childish

by foxy_mulder



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur is NOT good with kids lol but hes TRYING, Bullying, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Not by Hunith!!!, Past Child Abuse, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25392859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy_mulder/pseuds/foxy_mulder
Summary: "Merlin?"A tiny figure pops up from the wad of clothing."Yes?" squeaks a child who can't be more than six, and who is... wearing Merlins clothes.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 81
Kudos: 1635
Collections: merthur





	1. Chapter 1

As usual, the trouble begins with a sorceress. 

She's been sending the most annoying threats to Arthur and his father, for _weeks._ Naturally, Arthur and the knights are out searching the whole bloody forest over a few poorly executed assassination attempts. For all he respects and loves his father, the man is a complete zealot. 

Merlin, of course, rides beside Arthur. As a servant, he's technically supposed to be in the rear, but Arthur needs him in the front in case he needs him. He gets terribly bored, and can hardly hear Merlin talking from all the way back there. 

Arthur glances at Merlin, who looks half dead with boredom. Or perhaps exhaustion, Arthur thinks with a pang of guilt. He has been running Merlin ragged, as of late. Arthur has been… frustrated. He and his father have been having disagreements. Screaming, one sided disagreements, the kind where Arthur sits and takes it and then absolutely doesn't cry at all afterward. He's within his rights to give Merlin extra chores, so he can laugh at him as he struggles to complete them, and so Merlin's forced to linger a little longer in Arthur's chambers before retiring to his own bed. 

His frustration is made worse by how distant Merlin has become. He's keeping something from Arthur, something that makes him duck out of work early and come in late, pale faced and bruised. As if he thought Arthur wouldnt _notice_. Everytime he brings it up, Merlin goes all quiet and does that thing with his face that he does when he's lying, and changes the subject. 

Its insulting. Arthur only wants to help, and Merlin is steadfastly not letting him, like he thinks Arthur is some tyrant who wouldn't help Merlin with _literally_ anything he needed. 

So excuse Arthur for foisting a few extra chores on him, it's not like it even got a rise out of him the way it's supposed to, because he's so damn closed off now! Maybe mucking the stables late into the night taught him a lesson. Or maybe it just made Arthur feel better. Maybe neither. 

The dark circles under Merlins eyes send a twist through Arthur's gut not unlike guilt. 

“Maybe we better stop for the night,” Merlin yawns. "It's getting dark.” 

“Scared of the dark, Merlin?” Arthur nearly rolls his eyes. As if Merlins fooling anyone- he’s not afraid of anything, he’s proved it time and time again; the only reason he’s playing the coward is because he's tired. Its manipulation. They're hot on the trail and could easily search for several more hours, maybe even catch her tonight. 

Merlin yawns again and looks to Arthur expectantly, blinking those stupid blue eyes at him sleepily. Damn him. Damn his stupid pretty face. 

Arthur sighs. “Fine, let’s set up camp." 

He would much rather be back in Camelot, asleep in his room, than out in this cold- 

A twig snaps, and a shadowy figure is running through the woods. There she is. Arthur gallops his horse, and it's quick work to catch up and surround the sorceress as she stumbles on a log, falling into the leaves. 

"Get back," she snaps, trying to stand. 

Arthur rides up. "You have no power to give commands here." 

"As if you could understand true power," she sneers. "You and your father are such _children._ " Something like delight lights up in her eyes and she's grinning, which can't possibly be good. "...How would you like your outsides to match?" 

There's a flash of gold and before he can even reach for his sword, Merlin has leapt from his horse and jumped out in front of him like an idiot. Magic bursts violently against Merlin's body, the light leaving an after-print in Arthur's eyes as he struggles to readjust to the dark and see the damage. 

Merlin lies still on the ground. The sorceress disappears in a cloud of mist and Arthur can't even bring himself to care right now, his eyes locked on the still, still form on the forest floor. 

He's always doing these things, Arthur thinks angrily as he dismounts, pulse quickening as he cant tell if Merlin is breathing. He's alright, he must be. Because he always is. 

Arthur reaches out to touch the limp figure, and he looks small, too small, like he's drowning in his clothes. He frowns. He's far too small. 

"Merlin?" 

A tiny figure pops up from the wad of clothing. 

"Yes?" squeaks a child who can't be more than 6, and who is wearing Merlins clothes. Arthur squints through the darkness to try and make him out. 

"What's your name, little fellow?" 

"Merlin," he says tentatively. "Who are you? Where am I?" 

Arthur manages, quite impressively if he says so himself, to contain his bewilderment and fear to keep a neutral expression. He can't have this tiny child spooking and running off into the woods when there's a sorceress still in the area, especially if it really is Merlin. 

"I'm a friend of your mum's." That's a good start, this way the boy will trust him. He's probably afraid, having just found himself in the woods with apparently no memory of anything. 

"Oh yeah?" Merlin glares daggers, crossing his arms in suspicion. "What's her name then?" 

He rolls his eyes. Difficult as ever. Merlin clearly was raised in a barn in Ealdor, if he's this rude. 

"Hunith. Now come on, we're here to collect you and take you to Camelot. I am the prince and these are my knights, we will keep you safe on the- why are you crying?" 

Tears well in Merlin's eyes and it becomes more difficult for Arthur to mask his panic, because he isn't sure what hes done wrong, and he doesnt really know anything about children, and Merlin has begun crying for absolutely no reason. 

"Stop that," he commands in the voice that always works on the knights. Arthur cringes as that only makes the tears flow faster, Merlin making horrid distressed-child noises as his thin little shoulders shake with sobs. 

Arthur is a tactician. He must look at this strategically. This is still Merlin, just a smaller version. What sort of things normally upset him? Usually something stupid, like seeing a dead bird, or sympathetic tears for Gaius' patients, even over maladies as light as skinned elbows and splinters. So it's probably something like that this time too. Something small that his minuscule baby mind has morphed into a problem worth his tears. Perhaps he is overwhelmed by meeting so many strangers, but they're knights- every child knows knights are protectors. 

Arthur crouches beside him. 

"What's wrong?" He demands. Merlin curls in on himself, splaying a tiny hand as if to ward him off, and Arthur's heart seizes in his chest. Child or not, fear like this does not suit Merlin. It is not an expression he wears often, and as frequently as Arthur wishes for a bit of respect from Merlin, he finds that he does not have a taste for this kind of submission at all. He reaches out to comfort him, only to have his hand smacked away as Merlin scrambles backward through the leaves. 

"Dont hurt me," he pleads. "I was in Ealdor, and I don't know how I did- how it happened, but I didn't mean to get here, it wasn't my fault!" 

Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but Gwaine shoves in front of him before he can formulate the proper words. Gwaine kneels before Merlin, shooting a glare at Arthur before turning to the trembling child. 

"We won't hurt you. You have my word, little friend." 

"He's- he's," He points at Arthur and babbles incoherently, gasping so hard it looks painful. 

"If he tries anything, we'll get him for you," Gwaine pats the hilt of his sword. "We know all his weaknesses." 

Arthur should by all accounts have him arrested for such a comment, but the words make Merlin's cries turn to manageable sniffles as he finally relaxes a fraction. Arthur can overlook it just this once. 

The other knights glance between each other, awaiting instruction. Arthur sighs. 

"Set up camp. We ride back in the morning to clear up this… situation. Discreetly," he says, meeting each pair of eyes sharply. "I ask that you keep this occurrence to yourselves until it is resolved." 

The knights will not tell his father. They all adore Merlin, and wouldn't see him come to harm, especially not when an act of bravery is, as usual, responsible for his condition. They know as well as Arthur that if his father saw Merlin this way, he would think Merlin a sorcerer himself and execute him. Child or not, Arthur thinks, a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done it before. 

Merlin would normally sleep in his tent, in case Arthur needed him in the night, and to wake him in the morning. And because an extra body makes the tent far warmer. But tonight his tent is cold, as Merlin has elected to sleep in Gwaine's tent despite having known him the exact same amount of time as he's known Arthur. 

Arthur isn't such a tyrant that he would make a child sleep somewhere he didn't want to sleep, especially near strangers. Especially since he seems so afraid of Arthur specifically. The real Merlin likes him, and that one will be back soon enough. Unless, he thinks, they can't turn Merlin back. His tent would be cold forever. 

He tries to sleep, but it is a futile effort. 

  
The next morning, Merlin lets Gwaine pick him up and place him on his horse. The child shoots suspicious glares at Arthur as they make their way toward Camelot. 

Little Merlin is sitting backward on the horse, grinning as he chats with Gwaine. Arthur is not jealous, for that would be pathetic. Except Merlin is _his_ manservant, and advisor on occasion, and his best friend at all times, and Gwaine knows that and he _is doing this on purpose, specifically to bother Arthur._

It doesn't matter. He will simply win the baby over as he won adult Merlin over. And then he will learn some embarrassing baby stories about Merlin to tease him with when he is restored to his proper age, and then Merlin will be back, and all will be well again. 

  
The moment Merlin sees the castle he tries to jump off the horse in his panic, and it's only Gwaine's quick reflexes that keep him from braining himself on the ground. 

"Don't take me there," he shrieks, writhing and biting at Gwaine's hand where he holds him."I didn't do anything wrong!" 

"If you didn't do anything, you have nothing to fear," Arthur says comfortingly, reaching across to pat his shoulder. 

Merlin dry heaves, crying even harder, and is inconsolable for the rest of the journey. 

They drag him to Gauis' chambers and explain the situation. Gaius, as always, understands well the need for discretion, locking the door behind them as they bring Merlin inside, kicking and scratching. His voice has gone out from screaming. It's lucky, because otherwise they would certainly have been stopped by some concerned bystander on their way down the halls. 

When Merlin sees Gaius, he stops squalling for a moment. _Oh, good. He remembers him. Maybe that will make him less likely to think he's been kidnapped or whatever nonsense scenario he's cooked up._

Gaius shoos them all out, and Arthur is equal parts grateful and disappointed to be leaving Merlin there. It doesn't feel right, that he should go about his day without Merlin, or that he should leave him when he's so vulnerable. But Merlin will do well in the company of people he remembers and likes. 

Well. It's time to report to his father, give a highly edited version of the journeys events, and get yelled at for an hour or two. That should keep his mind off Merlin, at least. Arthur steel's himself for the rest of his day, which is sure to be a beurocratic nightmare. 

  
That night, Arthur visits Gaius' chambers. He can't help himself. Uther had been as angry as expected, seeing as they hadn't caught the sorceress, and he had gone on at length about how disappointed he was in Arthur, how disappointed his mother would have been, and so on. The usual. Arthur wants Merlin; normally he would coax him out of his mood, and draw a bath or something. Right now, all he wants is to _see_ him, even if it's not really him. 

Gaius is still up at the late hour, looking older than ever as he mixes powder into a disgusting soupy brown liquid. Arthur hopes he is searching for a cure. 

"How is he?" 

"Coping. He had quite a scare." Gaius looks up at him. "He's very cautious around strangers." 

"So I gathered," Arthur mutters. He passes Gaius and ascends the steps to Merlin's room, opening the door with a creak to reveal a dark, barren space. Merlin's room is cold and creaky, the bed resting on three legs and covered in a single threadbare blanket. 

When Merlin comes back to his normal size, Arthur will demand to know why he didn't request a new bed, or a room with a fireplace. Surely he knows Arthur would provide it in a heartbeat. In fact, he will switch the bed out with a nicer one before Merlin is back to normal, so the idiot won't be embarrassed, and most importantly, won't bicker with Arthur over it. It's no place for anyone to sleep, much less a child. 

"Merlin," he says in what he hopes is a child friendly voice. 

The child cowers under the bed, peering out silently with huge blue eyes, as if he thinks Arthur can't see him down there. He's only visible by the light coming from the doorway, and he crawls further backward until entirely shadowed. 

"I wont hurt you. I don't know where you got that idea, but no one here will." That's not entirely true, seeing as Uther would, but there's no need to scare him anymore than he already is. "Come on out." 

Merlin does not come out. Arthur waits by the doorway for a few minutes, and sighs. It's late, and he has paperwork waiting in his rooms that needs reading over. Merlin doesn't want to talk, that's fine. He'll just come by again tomorrow. 

  
Arthur hasn't seen Merlin in days. Each time hes come to visit, Merlin hides under the bed and refuses to come out until he goes away. The child has been in Gaius' care, but from the constant talk of his knights, he gathers that they've all been in to visit multiple times. Merlin was friendly with them, playing with some wooden dolls from Percivals niece, as well as wreaking havoc on Gaius' medical supplies. Everyone loves the child, he's allegedly as sweet and cheeky as the grown up version, but apparently twice as affectionate and much, much shyer. 

Arthur is fine with this. Good for them, all spending time together. Fantastic. Arthur has too much work to do anyway, he hardly has time to worry over this as well. He's frankly swamped in meetings and signing treatises, and finds himself going to bed at the wee hours of morning more often than not, since there is no one to order him to stop and rest. The servants wouldn't order him around that way. 

George is the one who dresses him, now, and makes his bed. He talks to Arthur so deferentially, it's boring. Arthur can't even insult him in good fun, because he never has a comeback. It's not George's fault, he's just doing his job, but Arthur can't stand him. 

And he's a bad cleaner. He always does it too perfectly. Arthur has become accustomed to a certain level of mess in his room, and the constant cleanliness is...disturbing. it doesn't look lived in anymore, without piles of clothing and blankets on the floor, or Merlin's horrible "decoration" flowers that are usually just weeds. Now, everything is pristine, a room fit for someone of Arthurs station. 

Merlin never cared about station. 

Pattering footsteps sound behind Arthur and he is snapped out of his thoughts. Someone is following him, but when he turns there's nothing there. Another footstep behind him. 

Drawing his sword, Arthur turns to the would-be assassin, ready to plunge the blade between their eyes, and its- 

Merlin. 

Merlin gulps at the sword hovering inches away, and Arthur quickly sheathes it to kneel in front of him. 

"You scared the hell out of me," he chastises. 

Merlin only looks up curiously, nothing like the wariness Arthur has seen on his face every time they have interacted. 

"Can I play knight training with you?" Merlin asks. It's the most words Arthur has gotten out of him since he arrived in Camelot. "I saw you and the others playing from the window, and it looks a lot of fun. Gwaine says no but you're the boss of him, right?" 

"I- '' Arthur chokes. He can't exactly go around giving children swords, but if that's what it takes to make him stop hating Arthur, then maybe he should just do it once. Except that it's horribly irresponsible and Merlin is so clumsy he would definitely hurt himself. 

How did Merlin end up wandering the halls alone, anyway? If his father finds him out here, he's doomed. Anger flares in Arthur's throat. Whoever let Merlin out of Gaius' chambers is going to be in the stocks for a week- no, a month, and if _anyone_ has seen Merlin out here and told someone, he will personally kill them. 

Merlin stares expectantly up at him. Right, the sword training. 

"You can play with a wooden sword, but not in the training yard," he decides. It would be far too public. "Now, how did you get out here? Did anyone see?" 

Merlin shifts guiltily. "Came to see you," he says, which does not answer the question. "Percy says we're best friends, is it true? He said you wouldn't say we are out loud, but we are?" 

He blinks. No one is supposed to know his feelings about Merlin, even Merlin himself. Perhaps he has not been as subtle with his affections as he hoped. 

He would never say so to adult Merlin, but there's no harm in admitting it to a child, especially when he's got his little fists clenched eagerly, back straight in anticipation of the answer. "We are, when you grow up." 

"I'm like a time traveler, sort of," Merlin smiles with snaggle teeth. "Uncle Gaius told me that too. That's neat, time traveling! I mean it isn't, because, uh, magic is bad," he stutters. 

"Okay. We'd better get you back to your room to continue this conversation." 

"I don't want to." 

Arthur takes a candy from his pocket and hands it to Merlin, who snatches it up immediately. "How about now?" 

Merlin chomps the candy so hard Arthur winces. Through his chewing, he speaks. "You're not gonna take me somewhere secret and kill me, are you?" 

"No! What is it with you? I have no reason to want to kill you." Has Merlin always been so paranoid? What does he have to worry about at his age, besides being eaten by… farm animals or something? Merlin looks at him like hes searching for something, and he must find it, because he breathes a relaxed breath. 

"I'm just making sure. Can I have another candy?" 

Arthur hands him another and strides toward Gaius chambers, Merlin trotting behind. Merlin can't quite keep up, thin legs stumbling over the hard floor. Arthur offers a hand and Merlin hesitates, eyes darting nervously to where Arthur's other hand still rests on his sword. 

Arthur slows his pace and brings both hands to Merlin's sides, hoisting him up to be carried. Merlin shifts awkwardly and clambers up to sit on his shoulders. He's light. Disturbingly light. 

"They're feeding you?" He asks with feigned disinterest. They forgot to watch him, they had better not have forgotten to feed him as well or it will be worse than the stocks. This is Arthur's fault, he should have insisted on watching Merlin even if Merlin didnt want him to, because everyone else is clearly incompetent. Merlin nods. "Good." 

Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine skid around the corner, looking frantic. 

"Princess, have you seen- oh thank god," Gwaine sighs, spotting Merlin perched on Arthur's shoulders. Arthur fixes them both with a withering glare and they wince, stumbling over explanations. 

"We don't know how he got out, it's like he was there one moment and poof! Gone the next." Arthur nearly pities them, breathing heavily as if they've been chasing around the entire castle in search. 

Arthur stands straight to his full height, trying to intimidate. If only he were a few inches taller. "Merlin wants to try being a knight in training. Seeing as you two will be running laps in chainmail for the next... three hours, I suppose it's up to me to oversee him." 

Percival looks suitably shamed, while Gwaine only looks up at Merlin, ignoring Arthur in full. 

"Is that what you want, Merlin? You don't have to be his friend. He's not forcing you to go play, is he?" 

"He's not," Merlin says, still chewing his candy. "You were right Percy, he's really nice and we really are best friends!" 

Percival looks surprised, which sort of pisses Arthur off. What's there to be surprised by? That Arthur would be nice? Or that he would admit that Merlin is his friend? 

"You'd better keep him in his room," says Gwaine. Arthur should probably put Gwaine in the dungeon for telling the prince what to do, especially since he is _well aware_ of what he should do, but he can hardly arrest him in front of Merlin. He will have to let it go this once. 

Merlin's face falls. 

"I'm tired of my room," he says. 

"No matter, my chambers will suffice." 

"Do you have toys?" 

"I have… a fireplace. A rug. You could have a nap." 

"I don't want a nap. I like rugs. Do you have a broom I can play with?" 

"What on earth are you going to do with a broom or a rug?" If Merlin played with brooms as a child, how is he still so bad at cleaning? 

"Fly it- I mean," his ears flush and he looks oddly guilty. "Pretend fly it. Like it's a big bird and I'm riding around on it." 

"A broom steed. What a game," he says dryly. 

Opening the door, he sets Merlin on the ground. "I have some work to do, so play knight training quietly until I'm finished." 

Merlin nods seriously. 

Arthur works for some time, getting through a significant number of the scrolls he's been sent. His eyes are sore from all the reading and late nights. He runs at them, noticing how quiet the room is, and he remembers that Merlin is supposed to be here. He glances around frantically, because _how could he have snuck off already_. But a mop of dark hair catches his eye. 

Merlin is sitting in the corner, utterly silent. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Being quiet." 

"What the hell _for?_ " 

"You're busy, I don't want to be a bother or… be in your way, or anything." 

"It's no bother," he sighs at Merlin's doubtful look. "I could use a break anyway, why don't we play a game or… something." Arthur doesn't know what children do. When he was a child he just trained all the time, he never really learned games. 

"Can we play with the broom?" 

He doesn't want to watch Merlin play with a broom. Somehow it seems… sad. He wonders if Merlin ever had any toys, or if he just improvised with household tools. 

"There's no need for a broom, you seem to have a steed already," Arthur says, squatting for easy access to his back. 

And so they find themselves playing broom steed without a broom. Merlin squeals, gripping Arthur's ears to avoid falling as they run about the chamber. It is fun, Arthur must admit. Even when he knocks into the table and his papers go flying to the floor. 

A clattering sounds at the door. Gwen stands in the doorway, having dropped the tray she was carrying. It rolls across the floor to rest at Arthur's feet. The silence drags for a long moment, and Gwen stutters an apology as Arthur silently berates himself for leaving the door unlocked. 

"I was just- they said Merlin is out sick and I thought I could, you know, help with his duties, I didn't mean to drop that sire- I mean, obviously I didn't _mean_ to, why would I do it on purpose..." she bows, curious eyes not leaving Merlin. "Sire, if I may be- if I may ask-" 

"Come in," he says kindly, gesturing for her to sit. She does, and he checks the hall for eavesdroppers, locks the door before joining her at the small table. "Ask away." 

"Merlin has a son?" She blurts, and blushes. 

"Please. No self respecting person would procreate with-" he cuts himself off as he remembers Merlin is right here and might take offense to Arthur's words, and cry, or decide to irrationally hate him again. 

Teasing is no fun if Merlin isn't there to roll his eyes at the insult and deal him one twice as rude. 

Arthur clears his throat. "This _is_ Merlin, he's been...changed, by magic. I'm watching him while Gaius works on a cure." He prods Merlin where he stands peering over the tables edge. "Go on, Merlin, say hello." 

"Hello," says Merlin, waving enthusiastically at her. She gasps and covers her mouth in delight. 

"Hello, little Merlin! you are so cute!" Gwen squeaks, looking back at Arthur with a smile. "Can Lady Morgana and I dress him up?" 

"What? No." 

"I want to dress up!" yells Merlin. Arthur presses a hand over his mouth to quiet him. 

"Gwen, you must keep quiet that he is here. Merlin," he raises a brow. "What did Gaius tell you about using an inside voice." 

Arthur may not have been in Gaius chambers when he was watching Merlin, but he is absolutely certain he was a handful. 

"To do it," Merlin sighs, proving Arthur right. 

"Correct." 

Gwen looks like she is trying very hard not to coo over the child, while Merlin ignores her in favor of gazing imploringly up at arthur with his huge _stupid_ baby eyes. God forbid that Arthur ever have children, if he's actually this susceptible. 

"Fine, go play with the girls for a few hours." He is certain to like them more than he likes Arthur, who hardly has time to play games anyway. Merlin jumps from his lap to the ground and he's so light that it feels like he's still there. Arthur will see to that issue promptly. "Bring him back here for dinner and don't let anyone see." 

Gwen nods fiercely 

  


Come dinnertime, Morgana and Gwen fulfil their promise and escort Merlin back through the doors of Arthur's chambers. Arthur holds in a laugh; they've trussed Merlin up in ribbons and have clearly spoiled him with fruit and sugary juice, based on his sticky fingers and the purple ring around his mouth. 

Merlin runs into the room and latches onto Arthur's leg. 

"Are you going to act insane tonight because they gave you sugar?" he asks, trying sternly but coming out fonder than anything else. 

Merlin shakes his head slowly. Good, they've worn him out. Arthur limps to the table, Merlin still firmly attached to his leg, and pries him off to sit on the wooden chair. He's ordered enough food for two, because Merlin looks half starved. Merlins eyes nearly bug out of his head at the meal. 

"I can't eat all this," protests Merlin. 

"How much do you normally get?" 

He shrugs. "Some bread." 

"Every day?" 

Merlin looks at him like he's insane. "Sometimes soup. Or an egg." He lights up. "We used to have a egg chicken!" 

Only bread. No wonder he goes around looking like a twig on legs as an adult. A twinge of concern strikes- he isn't still starving as an adult, living in Camelot, is he? His wage should be enough to prevent it, though he sends a fair portion of it to his mother. Arthur always leaves a bit of bread and cheese when he finishes meals so Merlin can snatch it when he isn't looking. He will have to pay closer attention when this is all over. 

For now, he makes do by shoving a large bowl of soup across the table, which Merlin begins to devour with singleminded enthusiasm, tipping the bowl up to drink, and slipping it down his front. Naturally, he has no table manners. Of course. He was raised in the village equivalent of a barn. 

"You had a chicken," Arthur prompts, to slow Merlins eating to a manageable rate. 

Merlin nods. "She was named Amber, she was my friend," he sighs. "The boys killed her, and then there was no more eggs anymore." 

"Why did they do that?" He's from a village of farmers, surely they don't go around killing each other's livestock without cause. 

"To hurt my feelings," he states matter of factly. "Mum says they're just bullies and ignore them but it's hard to ignore them. Especially when they-" he stops. "Never mind." 

"No, what is it?" Hes a terrible person for prying like this, but adult Merlin _never_ talks about his childhood, except to mention his mother. 

"They pretended they wanted me to play with them, but then the game was... throwing rocks at me," he whispers, shame clouding his voice. "I guess I deserve it but I didn't like it and I miss my chicken and I can't help- I can't help it. My stupid ears and my face and… everything else." 

Arthur is struck silent. He doesn't know what to say to soothe him, he never knew any of this. In light of this, his initial treatment of Merlin is all the more inexcusable. No wonder he had come to defend that servant on the day they met, he saw Arthur as nothing more than a bully. And he was right. 

And his treatment of Merlin is still unacceptable. Ordering him around to do extra chores and insulting him on a whim? Merlin may be terrible as a servant, but it's no way to treat another person, much less an advisor and friend who he may or may not be slightly in love with. 

Merlin has gone pale, clutching his stomach. Only half the bowl of soup is gone, but he's already pushing it away. 

Merlin is quiet through the rest of the evening, lying in front of the fire and staring into it with baleful eyes. Finally, Arthur has had enough. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Stomach hurts," he says evenly. 

Arthur feels terrible all over again. Of course he couldn't handle the rich food. He's terrible at this. 

And Merlin must have been suffering since dinner without saying anything. Why would he- no, Arthur knows why. It's so classic of him to refuse help. The longer this child stays, the more he sees Merlin in him, and the more it hurts that he's not there. 

Especially since Arthur knows that he doesn't know Merlin as well as he could have. He never knew any of these things about him. That he was afraid of knights and terribly shy and secretive, and so insecure about his ears and his face. Is he still? Arthur never asked. He didn't know to ask. Does he really know Merlin at all, or has he built it up in his head? 

He feels as if he's going a bit mad. He doesn't have to worry about anyone's opinion, he's the bloody crown prince, and who cares if some child doesn't like him? Who cares if his manservant doesn't like him? It shouldn't matter. He's above all that, and he's Merlin's superior. 

"We can fetch Gaius if it's bad." 

Merlin shakes his head. "S'fine." He stares into the fire, flames dancing in his eyes. "We're really friends?" 

"Yes." 

"Really best friends?" 

"Obviously." 

"Wow," Merlin's eyes glisten. "I never had a friend before, except Will." 

That catches his attention. Merlin didn't have any friends at home? None? Being bullied by a few children is one thing, but it's implausible that no one liked him. He seems to make friends with everybody, even Maude, the crankiest cook, does not hit him with her massive wooden spoon. Even the bloody _forest animals_ follow him around. Who on earth doesn't like Merlin? 

"Why not, charming little thing like you," he teases, tugging at Merlin's ear. 

He really is an adorable child, in all the same ways as when hes older, all overlarge ears and dimples and crooked front teeth exaggerated by his tiny frame. He's endearingly knobby, like a faun or some other clumsy baby animal. Arthur pinches Merlin's ear again, and then his nose, just to be annoying. 

Merlin laughs, snorting as Arthur pinches his cheeks too, but then he goes somber. "I can't play with other kids," he mumbles. 

"Why not?" 

Merlin stiffens like an animal caught in a trap. 

"Its a secret. I'm not to tell anybody or I will get killed dead," he recites as if it's been drilled into him. Arthur frowns. What an odd thing to teach a child. Whatever the secret is must be the root of his paranoia about being killed. 

Merlin takes a deep breath and continues as if he had never stopped. "Even if I told you it, nobody wants to play with me. My ears are too stupid, and I'm a bastard with only a mum, and I'm too little to play wrestle without getting hurt," he lists rapid-fire, not pausing for breath. "Nobody wants to be friends when you cant wrestle, except Will and I know he goes easy on me on purpose, and I don't have any other friends." 

Merlin makes a pitiful sight, head hanging . Arthur hadn't known any of that either; Merlin's always seemed plenty confident in himself and everyone in the serving staff loves him, as well as pretty much the entirety of Camelot. He's right about the ears though, they are excessive. 

(Arthur's spent a lot of time thinking about adult-Merlin's ears in various contexts, less than half of which are fit to think about in a public setting. But that's neither here nor there, and anyway, right how he's more focused on maybe executing the little brats who bullied poor Merlin who didn't have _any_ friends.) 

"Not true, I'm your friend, remember?" Merlin's head whips up, hair flopping into his eyes. 

"You are. Wait, you know already?" he whispers, tentative. "The secret?" 

"When you're grown up, we tell each other everything." Everything except about whatever bloody fool secret he is hiding now, as if he's killed someone at the ripe age of 6. Whatever it is can't be that bad, he's a child. And he's Merlin. Merlin couldn't keep anything bad from him, he's too genuine. Granted, these past weeks adult-Merlin has been hiding something, but he would tell Arthur eventually, Wouldn't he? 

"You know the secret," Merlin says breathlessly, eyes glinting with excitement. "And you're not mad. Wait til my mum hears about this," he laughs. "That means we can play fire puppets after all!" 

"Play what-?" 

That's when the hearth bursts into flame. On its own. 

Arthur stares, and the flames morph into unnatural shapes, twisting into a roaring dragon. He turns to grab Merlin, to defend him from whatever has possessed the fireplace, because the sorceress must be _back,_ and… Merlin's eyes shine gold. 

His heart drops out of his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sits cross legged by the fire, silent, as Merlin makes flame move using only his hands. It swirls up into shapes, little figures, and Merlin plays with it like it’s a toy, the flames licking at his hands painlessly. 

A lot of things make sense, suddenly. He's a sorcerer. Merlin is a sorcerer. _Merlin_ who is his best friend, perhaps the only person that truly matters to him. 

Anger spikes bitterly in his gut. None of it was real, was it? All along he pretended to be his friend, sent to infiltrate and gain Arthur's trust, only to betray him in the end by…by…. 

...making the fire dragon meet a fire cow and befriend her. 

"-And then they kissed," says Merlin, waving a hand to make the cow and the dragon exchange a romantic peck. Arthur could roll his eyes and critique such a soppy and bland storyline. 

But Arthur says nothing, because Merlin is a sorcerer, since they met, since he was a child. It makes sense he would mean to harm Arthur. Arthur has seen firsthand the neverending string of executions at his father's hand, and whether Arthur agreed or not, he had allowed it to continue. 

_Because sorcerers are always corrupted eventually, by their great and terrible power._ So his father always says. 

Merlin conducts nuptials between the cow and dragon. He singes the expensive rug and profusely apologizes as he attempts to fix it with magic, which only makes the rug turn into a carpet of ladybugs. Arthur rolls his eyes. 

Trust Merlin to be clumsy even at magic. It's so reminiscent of his older counterpart that Arthur can't bring himself to anger at the incident, even as Merlin insists they pick up each beetle and carefully escort it out the window, and it's such a _Merlin_ thing to do. "For the last time, it's fine," Arthur grumbles as Merlin continues sniffling over a stupid rug. Albeit an expensive one, worth more than Merlin has made in his life, but he doesn't need to know that. He's probably picked up on Arthur's worsening mood and thinks it's his fault, which isn't untrue, but child Merlin can't be held accountable for adult Merlin's stupidity. "I'm not upset with you, now why don't you… name all the ladybugs, or something." 

"This one is named Morgana," Merlin begins immediately, launching into a list of ladybug names. 

He sighs. Evil sorcerer indeed. Merlin is the least corrupt person imaginable, it's laughable to imagine him as a dark sorcerer. If Merlin has magic he likely uses it for… doing chores, or weaving flower crowns or something equally inane. He tries to think back on times he's seen it, waved it off as nothing, but he can't think of anything definite to incriminate him. 

(Falling branches at opportune moments.) 

He can't be evil. He can't. If Merlin wanted revenge he could have let Arthur die on many occasions. It makes no sense. And, Arthur thinks around the lump in his throat, Merlin wouldn't. Merlin is the last person he would expect to betray him, he's the most loyal person Arthur knows, certainly the bravest of his friends. Merlin couldn't betray him. 

So why hide from Arthur? 

Even if Arthur isn't _actually_ Merlin's best friend, if it was all a farce to cover his magic, Merlin is still _his._ He has told Merlin things he would never share with anyone else. But Merlin had never mentioned it, in all their time together, apparently Arthur hadn't warranted such trust. Arthur wasn't fucking good enough for his trust. Because… Because. 

(Child Merlin shaking in the forest. Afraid of the knights, meant to symbolize protection of the innocent, afraid of the prince. Afraid of Camelot, a land of prosperity and safety. ) 

But Camelot is not safe for everyone, he thinks, remembering his own futile attempts to sway his father, the countless pyres Arthur has attended since he was a child. All of them evil, they'd told him, and he had believed that once. 

And then his father had killed children. Innocents framed or accused with no proof besides the pointing of a finger. But of course, most of those burned were evil. 

And then his father wiped out _yet another_ village and a burning woman only looked at him with soft blue eyes as they lit the pyre, and Merlin was shaking, begging in the woods, only a baby, and- 

Arthur wasn’t good enough. 

The shame nearly drowns out the betrayal. 

Of course Merlin wouldn't trust him. He had hardly done a thing to stop it. Of course they couldn't be friends, had _never_ been friends. 

Merlin clutches at his leg and Arthur walks around with him attached like a limpet, since Merlin likes it so much. Since he has no idea Arthur is actually his greatest enemy. He did have an idea of it before, though, since the moment Arthur introduced himself. Merlin is exceptionally small, and he has crooked little teeth, and his hair is messy as he hasn't mastered brushing it yet. He's so young to carry the weight of impending death. Arthur paces with Merlin weighing him down, pangs of guilt and fury rushing through him anew. 

What kind of a prince stands by while innocents are killed? Uther will never change his mind, Arthur has been present for enough of his screaming fits over sorcery to know that. But Arthur could at least speak up, do anything to indicate to Merlin that he wasn't- that he wouldn't _hurt_ him- Merlin climbs off his leg, spotting another ladybug he missed in his initial capturing. 

He never even told Merlin he was important, much less that he would move heaven and earth for him. Merlin could commit treason a hundred times over and he could still never hurt him for it, but he's never told him so. Only assumed that he knew. But how could Merlin believe it? He couldn't possibly forgive Arthur for what he's done, simply because Arthur would spare his life or because Arthur _loves_ him. 

What reason could he have to stay here? 

Why would a sorcerer come to Camelot and work under the prince, allow the prince to treat him worse than dirt under his boot? And still go well beyond his duties, even as people like him continued to burn? Why would he jump in front of a spell meant for Arthur, rather than let him die and have his revenge? 

Not revenge. That's not like Merlin, he's far too clever to think that would change the kingdoms policies, especially as revenge plots fail left and right, only making Uthers' attacks on magic more vicious. If Merlin wanted revenge it would have been easily had, and his gentle nature would hardly allow it. He's politically minded, he has more subtlety and grace than all that. 

All at once, it dawns on him. Merlin wants repeal. He wants Arthurs ear, his trust, to convince him to overturn the ban. He has never mentioned it before, but perhaps he is biding his time until Arthur is king. Grudgingly, Arthur can respect that. 

Arthur would never tell him this, but he needs Merlin more than Merlin needs him. Merlin is always there at his side, in ways he hadn't even known he needed- touching him, telling him he's proud, casually disrespecting him to give advice candidly and following him into battle and saving his life and it's easy to interpret that as something more, because he wants it to be. Because he's never had anything like it. 

His friend is not his friend after all, but a strategic relationship. Means to an end. it happens- frequently, in fact; most of his acquaintances with other nobles are strategic. This changes nothing, it is just an outcome he frankly should have expected and it's perfectly fine, because he is a prince, and princes are built for this. Thinking otherwise is his own mistake and he will not make it again. He is a fortress and his walls are impenetrable, he must remember that. 

(Later, privately, he will shatter.) 

A pattering noise sounds across his chambers as the source of Arthurs turmoil runs to stand beside him, tugging at his sleeve. 

"You okay?" 

"Why wouldn't I be," he says faintly. "I'm fine." 

"It's just that you were staring at the bedframe for a long time." 

"I was...inspecting. For woodworm." He wants to smack himself in the face. 

"Oh," Merlin nods as it that's a perfectly sensible reason to stare at nothing, and continues. "I thought maybe… you know." 

"What?" 

"Maybe you changed your mind about being my friend." 

"Dont be absurd. I already said we were friends." 

"You're friends with _big_ me who does neat stuff and has adventures. _Normal_ sized me," he indicates his body, "isn't very interesting at all." 

"You're plenty interesting," Arthur mutters. The scorched carpet that is now running around outside as bugs is evidence of that. "Much better company, too. Big you wouldn't have put the ladybugs out the window, he would have just left them. Even though his job is to clean, the lazy oaf. Hes always-" he cuts himself off before he can launch into a fond tirade, reminding himself of his company. 

Merlin has a calculating look on his face, and Arthur has to avert his gaze, for fear of what Merlin might find there. 

"I can't tell if you're nice or mean," Merlin says. 

"Er… Bedtime, yes? Let's get you to Gaius." 

"No thank you. I wanna sleep here!" 

"What?" 

"I'm scared of the dark and there's no candles in my room, and last time I tried to make a light by myself I set the bed on fire." 

"Seems like a common thing with you," Arthur says dryly. 

"And you have cookies here and your beds proper soft, the least you can do is share," he goes white. "I mean, if you… if you'll let me." 

Arthur is constantly baffled by this small Merlin. One moment he's as brash and opinionated as Arthur's Merlin, the next he goes all soft and deferential. Is he perhaps still afraid of punishment for the magic? Or, he thinks, it's because he isnt used to asking for things and getting them, or to having a friend to ask them from. Arthur makes an abrupt executive decision to give him anything he wants from this moment on. He could do with being a little spoiled. 

"Here it is. I'll send someone to inform Gaius and get you some night clothes." 

Merlin dives into the bed at breakneck speed and nests in the covers. Arthur gingerly lies down at the opposite end of the bed. Merlin scoots closer, with unrepentant disregard for personal space. Arthur fixes him with a look. 

"Must you be so close?" 

"I told you, I'm scared of the dark." He rolls his eyes. "Can I have a story?" 

"There was a prince saddled with caring for a whiny little baby," he begins. 

Merlin scowls. "A real one please." 

"Fine," Arthur sighs, trying to think of one that ends happily enough that he could tell it without giving the poor boy nightmares. "Once upon a time there was a handsome and brave prince, and his bumbling, useless servant." 

This is a bit stupid. He glances over to see if Merlin is even still awake. Merlin is propped up on the pillow, listening intently, and Arthur continues. 

"It began with a chalice, laced with poison by an evil sorceress," he intones, and settles in to tell the tale. 

  
  


“...And he saved him?” 

“They both sort of saved each other. Not really that complicated. Do I have to repeat it _again?_

"You said the servant was useless! That doesn’t sound useless!" 

"Well, maybe he just said that and didnt really mean it." 

"The prince is in love with the servant friend, it sounds like," Merlin huffs. 

"It sounds like," Arthur echoes faintly. 

Merlin presses his icy feet against Arthurs side. Arthur yelps in an undignified way, rolling over to escape the tiny demon. 

"Are you the prince in the story?" The nosy brat asks, still trying to reach his foot out to harass Arthur. 

"Maybe." He's too perceptive for his own good. 

"And the servant friend," Merlin says softly, sitting up and finally abandoning his cold feet venture. "Who is that?" 

The silence drags. 

Arthur goes stock still. He knows. They both know that he knows. 

He hasn’t been subtle. A child could tell from a mere mention in a story; is he truly so obvious? Who else knows? Everyone, probably, gossip travels fast in Camelot; they're probably all mocking him behind his back. His face goes red and he swallows, saying nothing. 

Merlin breaks the silence. "You wish he was here instead of me, huh." 

It's true, but it sounds so bad when he says it like that. He's grown rather attached to little Merlin. 

"I don't wish you were gone, I-" 

"That's okay," Merlin grins, pouncing on his chest and knocking the wind from his lungs before he can finish. "I cant believe it! I really have a friend when I'm grown up, and somebody loves me too, _and_ loves my magic _and_ my face! Am I handsome when I grow up?" 

"Of course," he says, scandalized. "But what if you don't love _me_ when you're a grownup? Not so fun then, is it?" 

"I bet I do." He sounds so confident about it that Arthur could cry. 

"You're five, how would you know." 

"Whatever. Tell me another story." 

The brat doesn't go to sleep, even after he tells three separate stories, and it's only after the fourth that he finally closes his eyes. 

"I'm glad you're my best friend, Arthur," he mumbles. 

"Mmmph," Arthur says, pretending to be asleep. If Merlin were the real Merlin, he wouldn’t be saying this. Merlin shoves him. 

"Say something nice back, don't be a prat," Merlin shakes his shoulder, insistent. Arthur suppresses a smile at the familiar insult. 

"Fine. Your ears arent ridiculous. You grow into them when you're older," he lies, and Merlin beams. "Now I've said something nice, go to sleep." 

He curls up in a ball beside Arthur's shoulder, face nestled into his collarbone, and immediately begins snoring at an intolerable volume. 

Arthur would die for him. The thought is just as frightening as it used to be, even now that he thinks about it a few hundred times a day. 

_A strategic alliance_ , he reminds himself. _Merlin isn't your friend._

Arthur sleeps restlessly. 

  
  


He wakes slowly, a heavy warmth draped over him. Merlin must have magicked himself heavier in the night, likely to try and trick his way out of the heavy meals Arthur has him eating. Well it won't work, he's going to eat them til Arthur can no longer count his ribs. 

Arthur shifts, and a stubbled cheek nuzzles his neck. Long, slender legs are jammed beneath him, freezing toes digging into his thigh. 

Man-sized toes. 

He bolts upright. 

Lying in the bed is Merlin, proper, adult Merlin, in all his glory. Knobby and big eared, with the added bonus of sleep mussed hair and stubble and the fact that _oh god he's back, he's really back._

Merlin sits up and rubs his eyes sleepily, awoken by Arthur's abrupt movements. He stills. 

"This isn't my room," he says daftly. 

"You're daft," Arthur says cleverly. 

Merlin only blinks in confusion, half awake, and then his breath hitches and Arthur can pinpoint the moment he remembers everything. His eyes widen and he clutches at the bedsheets with white knuckles, and it's as if he were that same trembling child in the forest, like they never left. Arthur won't allow it. Not from Merlin, the bravest of his company. Who he now knows is even braver than he had imagined. And who is looking at him with unadulterated terror. 

"Merlin," he starts, and Merlin stands calmly, sheets still wrapped around him, and walks out of the room.

  
  


They don't talk about it. 

He waits and waits and they don't talk about it. Merlin, according to all sources, is 'still ill,' and unable to come to work. It is on the fifth day of waiting that Arthur is no longer able to bear it, and stomps down to Gaius' chambers himself to look for the idiot. 

Arthur knocks on the door and it swings open, but no one has opened it. On the other side of the room Merlin sits on the floor, reading from a dusty book, and gold fades from his eyes. 

"Gaius, I'm kind of in the middle of-" He glances up and goes still. "Oh." 

"I heard you were still ill. How is your sickness?" 

"I'm better," he says quickly, and then they lapse into tense silence. Merlin coughs. "You didn't tell your father. About the… thing." 

"No, of course not. You were-" _my friend? Innocent?_ So were so many others. Merlin would only despise him more for such trite excuses. The words shrivel on his tongue. "A child." 

Merlin hears anyway. "I'm no longer a child," he sighs. Resigned. 

"I am no child either," he growls, stalking closer. "I know what you're doing. And this debacle has made it clear that it is long overdue-" he sighs, fight going out of him. "I will speak to my father about the ban, and should he remain stubborn I will repeal it in full when I am King." He swallows. "You are hereby relieved of your services." 

He expects Merlin to nod his enthusiastic agreement. There is no reason for him to stay now that his task will be completed. 

But Merlin only tilts his head and fixes Arthur with an expression of personal affront. 

"You can't do that," Merlin snaps. "You can't fire me, I won't quit! I'll… show up in your chambers every day, paid or not. Can't lock me out either, there's a spell for getting past locks, so good luck chucking me away, _arsehole._ " 

" _Chucking you_ \- I'm releasing you, idiot!" 

"I know you're angry I lied, and scared of me being a wicked sorcerer and all, I _knew_ you would be, but _really?_ Firing me? I thought we were past this kind of petty-" 

"It's not a punishment. I'll recommend you for a new job, whatever you want." 

"I want _this_ job." 

"I get it!" He shouts. "I understand why you worked for me, and I'm not fucking angry, but you don't have to keep up the charade anymore!" 

Merlin looks as if he's been slapped, and then his face goes soft with understanding as he closes his book and stands. "It's not a charade. The magic is for you. I use it to protect you." 

"So that I'll repeal the ban." 

"Because you're my friend and I love you, clot." He shakes his head. "You saw me as a child, you _know_ I didn't have many friends. And you are my friend now, I don't take that lightly." 

Merlin is standing very close. 

"How can you forgive me," Arthur swallows again, around a hard lump forming against his throat. "You could have been killed, and I-" 

"I'd forgive you anything." 

"Right," he rasps. He can't meet his eye. "Sure." 

Merlin releases a long suffering sigh and Arthur is wrapped in a hug. 

"Always so daft," Merlin says fondly, and Arthur nearly shoves him off. But he's warm and Arthur has missed him terribly, and he smells acceptable today since Arthur hasn't made him muck any stables in a week. "I'm sorry, I should have told you, I just didnt know the right time. I should've trusted you, I know you're going to be a great king someday, nothing like..." he stops. 

"Uther. You can say it." 

"Yeah," Merlin says. "I bet he shouted at you when you came back empty handed." 

"He did." 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." He strokes Arthur's hair and huffs a laugh. "You were so jealous of everyone when I didn't like you at first." 

"I wasn't jealous," he pouts. "You're supposed to be _my_ friend. And I was trying my best, you were just unreasonable." 

"You were always shouting at me! And I was already scared to death!" Merlin is still petting his hair. No one has touched Arthur's hair in a long time. 

"I wasn't prepared for you. I understand not telling me about the magic, but you never told me _any_ of it." 

"I didn't want you to know. Things weren't always great when I was little, I didnt think I'd ever make it to adulthood, honestly." His casual delivery makes Arthur grip him tighter. "It's not like you could do anything, it's all in the past." 

"And now?" He says sharply." If you have a problem, you'd say so?" He has to know. 

"I would. That's what best friends are for, right, best friend?" 

He smiles cheekily. 

Arthur sighs. "I suppose I must take the mantle seriously. It's a heavy burden, but I shall bear it." 

"I realize this is a heavy moment, but I'd really like to kiss you right now, since you're in love with me and all." Arthur freezes. "Yeah, I remember that too. I'm not the only one keeping secrets." 

"No!" He pulls back, balking. A hurt expression flickers across Merlins face, and Arthur continues. "You were a kid just yesterday, it would be like… cradle snatching!" 

Merlin swats his arm, shaking as he tries to hold in laughter. "You are such an arse, I have no idea how I put up with you." 

"Do you love me too, then?" It comes out shyer than he had wished. 

"Obviously," Merlin shrugs and Arthur's heart beats faster. "Doesn't mean I won't turn you into a toad if you're annoying." 

Arthur could have him arrested for such a treasonous comment. He could have him arrested for a lot of things. But Merlin's cupping his face and leaning in, and there's not a hint of fear in his eyes anymore, so Arthur figures he can let it go. 

Just this once. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked it or hated it or if theres typos or anything, I'd love to know y'alls opinions :)
> 
> I'm gonna do some more Merlin fics, possibly a deaged Arthur fic too, so stay tuned for more in the near future!


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